Strength and Frailty
by lovelielove
Summary: Buffy is determined to throw herself into slaying and keep her loved ones safe and to stand on her own. "You loved me 'cause I'm fragile When I thought that I was strong But you touch me for a little while And all my fragile strength is gone."
1. Chapter 1

AN: Forgive this deviation from my other WIPs. What I've got for those stories isn't worthy of publishing yet and I've been bogged down with RL what with a big move into my grandmother's home with my little family and work going CRAZY.

I've liked this pairing for a while now and I figured I'd test the waters with this chapter.

Set after Normal Again.

* * *

><p>Late Spring 2002<p>

The house was sold. The majority of her belongings had been stuffed into three suitcases and a lovely weapons chest waiting by the front door. The apartment she had rented in the outskirts of town was filled with any of the furniture that could fit - namely her bed, a night stand, a dresser, and her mother's desk and chair. The rest of the larger furnishings would stay with the house. Everything else had been donated, put into storage at Xander's, or had gone with Dawn.

Buffy was tired. More tired than she'd ever been in her entire life, deaths, or revivals, but she couldn't quite place why. Dawn was happily ensconced in their father's posh home in L.A., awaiting the first day of school in her old hometown. While the sisters missed each other, Dawn was thrilled to be spending away on their dad's guilt credit card. Willow was rooming with Xander until the UCSD dorms were available again. She and Tara had finally made up and though the couple weren't moving in together again, they were cheerily dating. While the drama with Xander and Anya hadn't settled, they continued to move forward with their lives, moving on.

Spike had left town on his motorcycle weeks ago. Her final confrontation with the vampire involved brass knuckles, angry tears, and shouted words of recrimination and frustration, but he was finally out of her life. With him, he took most of her anger and resentment, leaving only guilt and self-loathing. It was still a relief to know he was gone.

The feeling of bone weary exhaustion weighted her footsteps heavily as Buffy climbed the stairs to the nearly bare bedroom that was once hers. She sat on the empty floor where her bed had been and gave a little sniffle. Her sad eyes looked around, soaking it in. This had been home, if only for a few years. There was that window that she had snuck out of and Angel had snuck into, and on the wall, those butterflies she'd glued on even before her first day of school (that had refused to come off without taking the wallpaper with it), and the heart shaped stain on the carpet that was the result of a spilled cup of fruit punch during a popcorn fight with Willow. She sighed. Not home anymore, she reminded herself. Just a house.

On the bedside table leftover from the move lay pages and pages of handwritten words, scratched out, erased, tear stained and nearly illegible in some places. Buffy stretched her hand out, snatching the long letter and looking at her writing critically. God, she could never send this as it was, but every time she tried to rewrite, the wording got changed and began to ramble. She looked around the room again. Against the wall, the CD/radio/tape player and recorder was still plugged in and on from her last use of it earlier in the morning. She had once used the ancient thing to make mix tapes for her friends in L.A. Even found some blank tapes in her closet while cleaning it out. Now, there were two new songs on one of them. And plenty of recording space for more.

She cleared her throat and pressed the record button.

"Hi Giles. It's me. Buffy me." She let out a nervous breath. "I wrote you a very long letter, but I'm kind of embarrassed to send it, what with all the grammatical errors and horrible handwriting. I already recorded some songs that I wanted you to hear on this tape (I hope you liked them), so I figured, why not record my letter, too?" The pages rustled in her hands. "Well, here goes nothing," she muttered.

* * *

><p>One week later in Bath...<p>

Rupert Giles clutched two bags of groceries against his chest, mail between his teeth, as he juggled his keys in his left hand, fumbling for the right key for the front door. Just as he slipped the key into the lock, the door flew inward. "Finally!" an exasperated feminine voice called. Olivia took the envelopes from his mouth just as they were about to tumble to the floor. "Honestly, Rupert," she sighed, exasperated, but amused. "I believe I had said that takeout was fine."

"Yes," he smiled, adjusting his grip on the groceries, "and I said that takeout was fine, but homemade much better. Mine in particular."

"Well, Roger and Millie will like anything you serve them. Alright, but I hope you don't expect me to wash the dishes. You see- that's the beauty of ordering in, disposable dishes." Olivia grinned, tossing the mail onto the desk against the wall and following Rupert into the kitchen to help him unpack the food. Neither took notice of the slightly bulkier, padded envelope slide behind the desk, catching between the wall and the piece of furniture itself.

* * *

><p>Summer 2002<p>

Buffy hadn't had much luck with the annoying trio. She had managed to retrieve some of their plans from their lair/booby trap- papers, a few files, blueprints, and a sliced up book, that Willow and Tara were interpreting as best they could at Xander's apartment. There wasn't much else she could do besides wait. Wait for the Scoobies to find a clue, wait for Warren and his little pain in the ass sidekicks to make a move, wait for another apocalypse, wait for another big bad to target the Hellmouth, wait for all the little bads to realize that they were dead, wait for her own predictable death.

She patrolled every night for hours. In a way, it was kind of liberating to be able to leave her apartment at any hour and come home at sunrise with no one to worry about and no one to worry over her. Sure, Willow, Tara, Xander, and occasionally even Anya checked in on her to make sure she was alright, but unless they were working on a specific researchy problem, Buffy and her friends usually just missed each other. She didn't own a phone anymore so the only way they could check on her would be to drive to her building in the evenings after work and school - when Buffy was normally already on patrol. During the day they had their lives and she had to sleep. She did try to make time for them on the weekends, maybe lunch with Willow or a video with Xander before her patrol once in a while. Buffy called Dawn once a week from Xander's place or the Magic Box, when she'd typically find her best friends waiting for her. She was grateful, at least, that they tried to act like everything was normal and no longer pressured her to be more or less than what she was. No one knew about her affair with Spike and no one mentioned Giles anymore after she had walked out of the conversation when his name was mentioned more than once, her jaw tight.

Life was dull and routine. Wake up, patrol, shower, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Buffy circled the Bronze twice before deciding it was all clear and began walking in the direction of her apartment on the other side of Sunnydale. As she passed the front entrance for the third time, a dark haired girl ran out and straight into Buffy. With the door suspended open for a moment, she could hear the sounds of a fight pouring out, before it swung shut again. "Great. Slayer to the rescue!" she muttered to herself.

The girl had already run away in tears, so, of course, Buffy walked into the night club to investigate. What she found half amused her and half irritated her - Warren trying to hit on a group of girls at the bar, a few guys out for the count on the ground, and Jonathan and that other guy hanging around on the side.

She just had to make a disparaging little comments about his pick up lines. It was tradition. "Oh, please, leave the poor girls alone. One, no one wants to be called baby before you even know their name, if ever. Two, calling yourself daddy is so very, very lame and kinda gross. And three, you've never even had a little bit of sex, have you?" Warren's face darkened in fury and surprised her with a right hook that sent her through the doorway and back into the wall across the street as he stalked after her. Jonathan and the guy with the fruity drink, Andrew?, followed behind, wide eyed, tugging on his jacket. They mumbled something to him, checking their watches. While Buffy was on the ground, shaking off blooming bruise on her jaw and an answering knot on the back of her head, the evilly obnoxious trio ran off into the night. She wondered briefly how Warren had made himself so strong, but then decided she didn't care. "Aw, crap," she pouted when she noticed they were gone and headed quickly to Xander's apartment to see what Willow and Tara found out. If she ran, she could make it there in 14 minutes time.

According to her friends, Warren, Jonathan, and Tucker's brother were planning on a spree, to rob and pillage banks and armored cars and the like. Willow even found where they were headed later that night. An armored car at the nearest amusement park, and Buffy was off running again. Who needs cars when you have shoes?

She arrived just in time to find the freakishly strong Warren tipping the car like a wayward cow and tearing the steel door away, the other two watching on the side again. Buffy made a punny remark that went over his head. They fought, Andrew cheering him on, Jonathan surprisingly giving Buffy the answer to relieving Warren of his strength. Orbs broken, Warren lost the fight. Then, in a move both annoying and completely ridiculous, he shed his jacket and did a Rocket Man. "Oh, come on!"

Who the hell has jet packs that actually work, anyway? Andrew did, too, apparently and managed to fly himself into an overhang, knocking himself out. Sighing, Buffy let the police take it from there and tiredly walked home, resolving to drop by the Xander's to let the gang know what was up after she got at least three hours of sleep.

A few hours later, when the sun was fully up and awake, Buffy trekked back toward the docks. At the edge of the warehouse district stood an old, three story, brick apartment building. Some of the windows were cracked and repaired with newspaper and the narrow staircase to what could generously be called a lobby had loose bricks and a rusty handrail. But it was home now.

She walked up the steps and through the glass fronted door. She checked her mail, a familiar feeling of disappointment when there she found no personal letters as she shuffled through the bills and ads, a little boy from the third floor came careening out of the elevator, his backpack on and his harried looking mother following. "Jacob! Slow down!" The boy slid to a stop next to Buffy and looked up at her with light green eyes. That particular shade of green was so very similar to the eyes of a man she hadn't seen in months.

"Hi!" he beamed at her, practically bouncing in place.

"Hey," she managed a smile back.

"Today is my birthday and daddy said I get an ice cream cake!" The confession exploded from him in a flurry of words. The boy's mother sighed digging through her bag for something.

"Well, happy birthday, kiddo!" Buffy bent down and ruffled his brown hair. "How old are you today?"

"Jacob, can you wait here for a minute, I must have left the keys in the door again." The mom rolled her eyes at Buffy in commiseration. "I just keep forgetting."

"Ok, mom," Jacob said distractedly as he was determined to brag about his age with the pretty blond lady. "I'm six! See?" He held up six fingers. He really was cute, all round, rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and pudgy fingers.

"Wow! You're so old! Are you gonna have a birthday party?"

"Yah! I -" The boy froze and his green eyes widened in confusion, fixed on something behind her. She turned and saw Warren through the glass door marching purposefully up the narrow stairs something black and shiny in his hand. Buffy threw herself in front of little Jacob, arms spread wide defiantly.

Warren slammed the door open, the glass rattling, a crazed gleam in his eyes. "You think you can just do that to me? You think I'd let you get away with that?" He laughed hysterically. "Think again."

When Warren raised the gun, Buffy turned and wrapped her arms around Jacob. She didn't hear the gunshots, didn't feel them, only felt the shaking scared little boy

His scream was the last thing she heard before the world fell away to blackness.

* * *

><p><em>beep…. beep…. beep….<em>

The steady beet of the heart monitor was the first thing she heard as she clawed her way back to consciousness.

_beep…. beep…. beep…._

Her first thought was of the little boy with the green eyes. Was he alright?

_beep…. beep…. beep…._

She could barely open her eyelids, they felt bruised and heavy, but when she did open them the blurry outline of a dark haired, person shaped object sitting beside her with glasses was what she saw first.

_beep.. beep.. beep.. beep.._

"Giles?" her voice was raspy and it came out as a hoarse whisper. The person didn't hear her. "Giles?" she tried again. He turned to her. Only he wasn't Giles.

_beep…. …. beep…._

"Hello, Buffy," Wesley's voice was gentle, calm, and quiet. "Don't worry, I'm not the only one here, it's only my watch. Let me just call Willow and Xander. Dawn is right outside as well." He swiftly left the room before she could ask him questions, his booted feet clomping loudly in the quiet hall.

_beep…. beep…. beep…._

He wasn't here. Of course he wasn't here. Her Watcher would be somewhere across a whole continent and an ocean. As far as he could get from the kind of vigil poor Wesley was holding. As far from her as he could get. What was Wesley doing back in Sunnydale anyway? She was in the hospital obviously what with that mediciny smell and scratchy sheets and the _beep beep _of her heart monitor. She shut her eyes, closing out the world and a hot tear escaped from one of her eyes and leaked down into her pillow.

Why couldn't she have just slept forever? What did she have to wake up to? More slaying, of course. Sure, but what was the point? Save her friends and family? Gladly. What was in it for her? It was a selfish thought, she knew, but shouldn't she get some kind of happy out of risking her life and saving the world? All this thinking made her head throb.

The door to the hallway was open and she could hear hurried footsteps, familiar footsteps. Dawn's pitter patter, Xander's shuffles, and Willow's clip clops along with Wesley's clomps. "… was asking for Gile's again. You said he didn't pick up when you called. I don't understand why you can't call him again. She needs him." Wesley spoke in a harsh whisper.

Had she woken up before asking for Giles and not remembered? Her small group of visitors stopped just outside the door, but Buffy could hear them clearly. Xander immediately rose to the defense, "We can't call him again. Not with-"

"You don't understand, Wes," Willow interrupted now. "When I called last week, do you know who picked up? Giles' father. He told me that Giles was going to get married that day. He'd probably be on his honeymoon right now. I mean, do we have the right to disrupt that?"

"Damn straight, we have the right!" Dawn hissed. "This is Buffy. His Slayer? Buffy almost dying. Buffy lying in a hospital bed calling out for him! He can't pick up the frickin phone?"

"But Dawnie, he's gone now." Xander sounded sad and resigned. "He chose to leave, cut us out of his life. He left us. Left her. We really don't have the right to interrupt whatever business he's got going on in England. And honestly, I don't want to. He's not part of this anymore."

"Are you telling me," Wesley sounded concerned, "that Mr. Giles wouldn't drop everything if he heard, if he knew, just how close Buffy is, was, to death's door? You think that he wouldn't be on the next flight to Sunnydale?"

It was quiet for a long moment. And Buffy answered him in her mind. No. Mr. Giles wouldn't. Married? A bitter twisting sensation flooded her chest and breathing was suddenly very difficult. He's obviously moved on to better things, Wes. I don't need him. I'm strong on my own. I don't need him.

"I don't know," Willow finally answered. "I really don't."

"Willow?" Buffy whispered hoarsely, her eyes still shut tightly.

"Buffy!" The redhead rushed into the room and took Buffy's hand, followed quickly by the other three who surrounded her bed. "Hi sweetie, how you feeling? We- We're so glad you're finally awake again!" Willow's eyes were swimming with unshed tears and her nose was a little red.

"Don't tell, Giles, ok?"

"I- " Willow looked uncomfortably at the others, who looked right back at her helplessly, then back at the girl in the bed, "Well, I was gonna try to call him again tomorrow, but-" when Buffy began to shake her bandaged head vigorously, Willow quickly placated her friend, shushing her, and patting her hand. "Don't worry! I don't have to call if you don't want me to."

"Please?" Buffy cracked her bloodshot eyes open. "I'll be fine. He doesn't have to know. Dawnie, why aren't you in L.A., I mean, in school?"

"Angel had Wesley drive me down. You were shot, Buffy, in the head. I think it's reasonable for me to miss a few days of school and make sure you're ok." Dawn took Buffy's other hand. "I may live in a different zip code, but I love you, and, and you're my sister and I'm going to take care of you. The way you always take care of me." The look on the teenager's face dared her sister to argue.

Buffy smiled through cracked lips and whispered, "Thanks, munchkin."

"And don't worry about the slaying, Buff. Willow, Tara, Anya, and I have it covered for a while until you recover," Xander said with cheery bravado.

"And I'm helping!" said Wesley. All eyes turned to the suddenly self-conscious British man.

"Thank you, Wes. For bringing Dawn," she was whispering still. The gang was quiet for a moment, long enough for Buffy to begin thinking. "What happened? I remember Warren. And - the boy! Jacob, I think. Is he alright? It was his birthday!"

Xander answered. "You saved him. He was scratched with the bullet that grazed your arm, but he's fine. His mom came out of the elevator in time to see Warren split. She called the paramedics. You took a bullet to the head and another bullet went into the wall, Buffy."

Buffy's hand, heavier than it really ought to be, lifted to her forehead where a bandage sat, her fingers following it around the circumference of her head until they reached a much more heavily padded section of gauze was secured. "Why-" she coughed, her throat incredibly dry. Dawn handed her a glass of water. She sipped and then sighed. "Why am I not dead? Gunshots to the head are usually pretty gruesome aren't they? T.V.'s taught me that much. And why am I not a vegetable?"

"I'll go get Dr. Carson," Wesley said quickly. "I'm sure he can explain everything." and rushed out of the room.

Dr. Carson turned out to be a middle aged neurosurgeon with a kind and straightforward bedside manner. He explained that she had been incredibly lucky. The bullet had taken a path that barely skimmed the left lobe of her brain. It had still fractured the bone in its path and created havoc on the soft tissue within her skull, but when she had been loaded onto the ambulance, she had been in and out of consciousness - a sure sign, even then, that she had a good chance of recovery. Her body was fighting in an astonishing display of natural healing. Dr. Carson had only to remove the smallest bit of damaged and inflamed brain matter to reduce some serious swelling, but the tissue was already mending itself when he had gone in, veins restoring themselves. He had replaced the skull fragments and loosely packed them to relieve the swelling pressure and put her into ICU.

"And how long have I been here?" Buffy's eyes met those of the people around her.

"A month," answered Xander.

"Four weeks tomorrow," said Dr. Carson. "Your body's healing abilities are incredible, Ms. Summers, but it still needed time to recover. You were never in a coma, only a very deep restorative sleep. At one point you developed a rather severe infection, but a cocktail of very strong antibiotics took care of you quite nicely."

Buffy remained quietly thoughtful for a moment and the others stayed silent as well. "I was sleeping." It wasn't a question. "That means that I must have woken up sometime, right?"

Dr. Carson smiled. "Yes, though I don't expect you will remember. Your painkillers and other medication would have made you very loopy."

"Then why-"

"Are you lucid now? You've healed enough that my team and I were convinced you wouldn't do yourself or others harm when you woke up - uh, you're very, um, strong, Ms. Summers and there were some instances when you had regained consciousness, but…" the doctor traded a quick glance with Wesley. "So I lowered your medication significantly as of 24 hours ago."

"Huh." Buffy looked stumped.

"You're a very lucky young woman. With many people who love you. Well, I'm afraid I have to leave you now- consultation in 10 minutes. I'll be sure to visit later in case you have any more questions. It's nice to finally meet you, Ms. Summers. And don't keep her talking too long, now." He spoke the last to the girl's friends and family.

"Four weeks?" she whispered as Dr. Carson left the room. "Dawn! You've been out of school for four weeks?"

The others chuckled. Dawn shook her head, smiling. "I came up in the beginning for a weekend, but once you were stable Dr. Carson convinced me that you would be fine and Willow convinced me that you would kill me if I missed school. Xander called when they said you might wake up soon. I've been here for four days."

Buffy relaxed and smiled gratefully at Willow and Xander. "Thanks, guys."

Wesley stood again, "You should rest again, Buffy. You look quite tired." They all nodded in agreement.

"Yah, I guess I feel tired too. Funny. I've been sleeping for a month and I'm still feeling all dozy." Her eyelids were heavy.

"We'll be right outside, Buff," Willow squeezed her hand before heading out the door. The others followed suit, Dawn bending to kiss her on the forehead.

Buffy closed her eyes and was alone again with the beeping of her heart monitor, trying not to think about how much she wished she hadn't woken up. Trying to be grateful and not bitter or angry.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile in Bath<p>

The tea had been forgotten and was growing cold on the coffee table. Giles' eyes were glowing and he was clutching the hands of the woman in front of him tightly. "You're joking!" He laughed joyously and kissed her cheek soundly. "Pregnant? How far along?"

"Three months," Olivia was beaming. "Are you alright with this?"

"Am I- Of course! Of course, I'm alright - I'm more than alright! Pregnant! This is fantastic news! Good lord, Millie will be ecstatic!"

"To say the very least!" Olivia laughed, holding tightly to to his hands as well, as if her happiness might buoy her up and carry her away with the wind. "I'm so glad, Rupert. I'm so very happy that you've come back and that you're here for this."

For the briefest moment, a shadow passed over his features, but his smile remained and the shadow was gone. "I am, too, my dear."

* * *

><p>AN: To be continued? What do you think? I've got one more chapter ready. And one more yet to write. But if the response is in the negative direction or non existent, I'll put this one on hiatus until I'm done with my other HP stories... Be honest now... Did what do you think?<p>

Also, this is the (totallyawesome)song I listened to on repeat (on Buffy's mix tape) while writing this.

Take It All by Adele

Didn't I give it all  
>Tried my best<br>Gave you everything I had  
>Everything and no less<p>

Didn't I do it right  
>Did I let you down<br>Maybe you got too used to  
>To having me around<br>Still how can you walk away  
>From all my tears<br>It's going to be an empty road  
>Without me right here<p>

But go on and take it  
>Take it all with you<br>Don't look back  
>At this crumbling fool<br>Just take it all with my love  
>Take it all with my love<p>

Maybe I should leave  
>To help you see<br>Nothing is better then this  
>And this everything we need<br>So is it over  
>Is this really it<p>

You're giving up so easily,  
>I thought you loved me more than this<p>

But go on and take it  
>Take it all with you<br>Don't look back  
>At this crumbling fool<br>Just take it all with my love  
>Take it all with my love<p>

I will change if I must,  
>Slow it down and bring it home,<br>I will adjust,  
>If only you knew,<br>Everything I do,  
>Is for you<p>

But go on and take it  
>Take it all with you<br>Don't look back  
>At this crumbling fool<br>Just take it all with my love  
>Take it all<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

AN: 2nd chapter! I hope you enjoy it! Please review and tell me what you think.

Also, if you don't care for lyrics of songs in stories... that is precisely why I put them at the end! So that you can skip over them if you like. But if you find the song on youtube or whatever and listen to them while the story is playing - I think it may make your reading experience more... emotional? I dunno. It certainly made writing this much more personal for me.

Take It All - Adele

Don't You Remember - Adele

* * *

><p>Fall 2002<p>

"Rupert! You don't have to babyproof everything! There's the collapsible cot for the living room if anything." Olivia laughed, her hand over her swollen belly, and watched the tall man reach behind the desk to baby proof an already blocked off outlet with a plastic plug cover.

"We can never be too safe. I read that babies put everything into their mouths. If that's true then – Oh. What's this?"

Giles pulled out a fat little envelope that had just fallen to the floor against the wall from behind the desk. He flipped it over, saw his name in familiar feminine handwriting and a return address in Sunnydale, California, and stood up swiftly, catching his head painfully beneath the desk.

"Are you alright? What is it?" Olivia leaned against the desk and gazed curiously at the package.

"It's from Buffy." Giles had gone quite still, still stooped down with a handful of plastic outlet covers in his hand, eyes transfixed on her handwriting.

"Is it? I though she hadn't tried to contact you since you left. Oh, look." She pointed one long finger toward the date stamped near the postage stamps. "She sent this months ago."

Giles said nothing, trying to swiftly tear the envelope open, but had trouble with the bubble wrapped, tamper proof innards and had to use a pair of scissors that Oliva handed to him. He shook the envelope's contents onto the desk. A cassette tape. He shook it again and then peered inside. No letter. No card. Not even a hello. The feeling of exhilarating hope and happiness that he hadn't admitted building in his chest, slunk back, until he saw the small, handwritten label on the cassette: "To Giles. All my love, Buffy."

Take It All - Adele

Don't You Remember - Adele

"Hi Giles. It's me. Buffy me." She let out a nervous breath. "I wrote you a very long letter, but I'm kind of embarrassed to send it, what with all the grammatical errors and horrible handwriting. I already recorded some songs that I wanted you to hear on this tape (I hope you liked them), so I figured, why not record my letter, too?" The pages rustled in her hands. "Well, here goes nothing," she muttered.

"Dear Giles," she read cheerily. "How are you in ye merry olde England? I hope that since you've been back that you've had many scones and gallons…" she paused, then said, almost to herself, "or is it liters? Cups - no quarts? Anyway. Gallons and liters of your favorite strong tea. English breakfast, right? I know that you've written to or called Dawn, Willow, and Xander once or twice. They mention you sometimes, but I think they're afraid to talk about you around me. Or maybe you told them not to, I don't know. I'm sorry I haven't called. Your number has been stuck to the fridge for a while, but I could never work up the courage to dial it all the way. I'm doing alright here back in Sunnydale. A lot has changed since you left. I'm not sure how much you've heard, so I'll go over the basics before I get to what I really wanted to say.

"Willow's moved out and staying with Xander. She's re-enrolled at UCSD and dating Tara again. They're taking it slow and she's staying away from casting, which is," a shuffle of papers interrupted her sentence, "all of the good. Xander has been way busy what with getting some very grown up, responsible adult type supervising positions on his construction projects. Anya and Xand have been going through a lot since he left her at the altar. It was bad. I didn't know she had the capacity to be so heartbroken… and I can blame her at all, but Xander says he still loves her and wants to be with her. She's a demon again, by the way. It's all very dramatic. We don't all hang out as much anymore since everyone's been busy lately. Willow, Xander and I try to stay out of Anya's hair when we can. I train in the back some days, but just-hanging-in-the-Magicbox kind of days are sort of over. We still do the research thing sometimes, but it's no more Scooby gang headquarters. And now, my home isn't much of a replacement.

"This is my last night in 1630 Revello Drive. I sold the house. Didn't get as much as I'd hoped. Dawn's living in L.A. with dad. We had a pretty bad scare with a demon, a psychotic episode, a holy-crow-I'm-totally-crazy, inducing demon, a few weeks ago, and before that she and Willow had gotten into a car accident - nothing too bad, just a broken arm and wrecked car. That was what started Willow on her cold turkey-ness on all magics. I felt that Dawn would be safer away from all big bad trying to get big sis. Not to mention my complete failure to look out for her." Her voice wobbled on 'failure,' but she continued to read. "I helped her move last weekend. She put up a fight at first, saying she'd rather be in Sunnydale with all of us and all the danger, but I finally talked her into it. Dad's not going to be around much for her, surprise there," another page turn here.

"But he has a lovely housekeeper named Maria that promised me she'd watch out for Dawn and make me tamales when I visit. She'll be going to a really good school for smart rich kids. She's excited about their language and culture exchange program. They trade rich kids from Europe for rich kids from California for a semester at a time if they meet all the requirements. I think I'm excited for her, too, you know? Dawn's really going to have a lot more opportunities than I ever did.

"As for me, Dad is pretty mad at me for not coming to him before things got bad financially. He's spoiling the munchkin, but kind of punishing me. He's sending just a little money to help me scrape by. Which is fine. I'm 21 now and not in school, I really should be supporting myself. The money for the house went mostly to bills and whatever was left over was enough for me to put a deposit down on a little studio on the edge of town.

"The apartment's a tight fit and some of the neighbors aren't all that wholesome, but it's got all the things I need. I quit my part time job at the Doublemeat Palace," page turn, "looking for a new job, now. The money wasn't worth the way that place made me feel. Slaying is the same old. The biggest pains in my butt recently have been Warren, Jonathan, and Andrew – the evil semi-genius trio. I'm working on them.

"That's all the news." Buffy was quiet for so long that Giles though the tape had stopped .

"And. I want you to know that you were right to go. As much as I hate it that you're gone – you were right. I needed to learn to stand on my own. I didn't know it for a long time and it was so, so hard without you." Buffy's watery voice cracked a little and she swallowed audibly, composing herself again.

"But I'm trying my hardest, now, to make things better, to be a better Slayer. Every day since you left I think about you. At first, it was kinda mean and angry thoughts, but pretty soon it was 'What would Giles do' or 'I wonder what Giles would think' or 'I bet Giles has the answer to that one.'

"I want you to know that I've failed a lot recently." Page turn. "I've done things I'm ashamed of. Neglected my friends, my family. Threw myself a great big pity party, but I think things will be better now. Dawn is a little lonely, but she's so excited about her new school. Willow and Xander are happier lately, more carefree. And I think that it's a good thing that I'm finally taking care of myself.

"So, you were right to leave me.

"Before the whole Glory thing, before Adam or the Mayor or Angelus, I knew. I knew that you would always, always be there. You, Watcher mine, would be with me until the day I died. And you were. I am so very sorry that the last things we spoke to each other that night were in anger. I don't think I ever told you that.

"Giles, I will always be grateful for having known you and I'll always be," a shuddering breath here, "unworthy of you. How can I put this? Before I met you, I was a beam of raw oak. Forgive the Xander-construction-man speak. I was raw, but strong. You shaped me with your hands and your knowledge into what I was – which I guess in Xander speak would be a very quality piece of furniture, sturdy and useful, not," pages rustling again, "easily broken. Other people wanted to put their mark on me, graffiti me up, paint me to their liking, claim that I was theirs, that they grew the tree I came from so I belonged to them, but underneath all that, I am still what you shaped me into. When mom died, the rug I was sitting on was pulled out from under me. I was all upside down and topsy turvy. You lifted me up and put me back on what I thought was solid ground. I guess maybe it was just sand.

Glory happened and after all that, I went to furniture heaven, Ikea maybe. Where they spruced me up and made me complete again, the way I was with you." Page turn again.

"When I came back it was as if I had been dropped from a hundred feet in the sky down into an dark ocean, full of friendly animals that wanted to cling to floaty little me, pulling me in different directions, tell me how happy I should be to be back on land when everything was completely flooded. I had no place to stand, nothing to keep me from drifting into pieces. I was drift-wood Buffy. Then you walked through the door and I found my anchor. No. Wait." The papers crinkled. "That isn't right. Not my anchor. My lead. Like on a surfboard. No. Then I'd be the surfboard. Compass! No- that's a ship." She muttered under her breath and shuffled through the pages of her letter.

"Okay, never mind. That metaphor went in a weird direction. I'll just stop reading from the letter and tell you the gist of what it says from here out. My home is sold to someone else, but, weirdly, I don't feel nearly as lost as when you left. You were my safety net, kind of my home, for so long. On some level I knew that I was taking advantage of you. I must have known how much I was using you, but I can't seem to wrap my mind around that thought. All I knew was that you cared. You loved me. I know you never said it, but I could feel it. I could see it in the way you looked at me, the softness in your voice, the way you always reached for me.

"And I wish with all my- No. No wishing. I mean, if I could-," she sighs. "What I'm trying to say is, I love you. In so many ways and on so many levels, I love you Rupert Giles. Please, please forgive me for all the hurt that I've done to you. I'm not going to beg you to come back to me. I won't even ask politely- at least, not until I find my way back to solid ground. If I never see… If you decide to stay permanently in England and if I never make it over the pond because- of some reason or another. If I never see you again, please don't forget me, Giles. Remember me the way I was, not the way I came back." Buffy's unsure voice had gone soft and quiet.

"But hey!" her voice was suddenly chipper again. "If you wanna visit, I'm not gonna say no!" She laughed nervously, the sound sweet, but hollow.

"It's funny. Writing it all down- and, I guess, reading it out loud- is kind of a relief. I miss being able to just tell you things, you know? I know this whole 'mix tape' thing is super corny, I actually used to make a lot of tapes for my friends at Hemery, but I don't have a computer now to make you a CD. I hope that you listen to the songs on this tape. She's a beautiful singer, but listen to the words, ok? Really listen. The first one is called Take It All. Parts of the lyrics remind me of how you must have felt and a bit of how I feel. The second song is Don't You Remember… It's been my favorite lately.

"Anyway. Um, don't feel obligated to write or call or anything. I'm sure you're busy… And Giles? I really hope that you find happiness back home in England." She paused and then very quietly whispered, "Love you. Bye." The papers rustled for the last time and the click of the stop button could be heard just before the white noise of blank tape.

* * *

><p>Winter 2002<p>

Buffy stumbled into her tiny studio just past three in the morning, locking, bolting, and chaining the door shut behind her with one hand, leaving streaks of blood beside each lock. The girl hissed as sharp pains wracked her body. "Stupid evil demon," she grumbled, easing the few steps to the little bathroom and her first aid kit. "How the hell did he find a vampire that looked just like Hugh Jackman? Dumb, nerdy Warren. Stupid Wolverine costume. Stupid strap on claws. Weren't even retractable." Buffy lowered herself gingerly onto the edge of the closed lid of the toilet.

She paused, trying survey the damage under the bare fluorescent light. Yep - clothes are definitely for the trash this time. The plain jeans, tshirt, and jacket combination had once spoken of practicality and wearability, if not fashion, but now spoke more of rags and stains. Scratches littered her body in groups of parallel lines, some shallow, like the ones on her torso and arms, and even on her forehead. But the vampire had gotten a few good hits. There was a frighteningly deep wound to her thigh, long and curving, but only sluggishly bleeding and there were three puncture wounds to her right shoulder. She felt nauseous and slightly clammy and cold.

"Oh, Buffy, you did it this time," she murmured to no one in particular. With a deep breath that stung, she slowly bent down to open the large tackle box beneath the sink, her once tidy bun of golden hair falling haphazardly over her eyes. She touched the front latch and the box sprung open, revealing bandages, thread, curved needles, gauze, tape, scissors, splints, unopened syringes, bottles of medicine. All things Buffy couldn't get to because she felt the unfortunately familiar feeling of losing consciousness as black spots began to cloud her vision and the world spun dizzyingly.

She woke a few hours later on the never-quite-clean-enough tile. The morning sun shone rather high in the sky. Groaning, she pushed herself up into a sitting position against the wall. Her muscles ached in protest from lying on the cold floor and the cuts and wounds, already half healed, pulled uncomfortably when she moved. All the blood on her skin and clothes had dried and made her skin feel stiff and itchy. Buffy reached for the scissors in the open first aid kit and began methodically cutting her clothes away..

She really should have called Willow before she had gotten home. "God, I really need to invest in a phone," she mumbled, knowing of course, that there would never be enough money for a land line, let alone a cell. She might have called the witch from a pay phone after such a bloody patrol for some help patching up, but Willow had finals coming up and Buffy hadn't wanted to disturb her study time. Buffy tried not to bother Willow and Xander too much with the slayage business. Not after all they'd done for her while she recovered from Warren. There were three distinct occasions during her recovery that they'd nearly died. What was the point of being the Slayer if her friends died? No, it was better to keep them out of harm's way.

She'd have them over for some of the bigger research type things and she'd occasionally need to call them to pick her up if she'd been injured badly, but she was trying to wean them off of the 'We'll run off into battle to back you up even if it means we get killed' mentality her friends seem to have in abundance. Besides, this was not the first time Buffy had tended to her own near-fatal wounds before, nor would it be her last. Slayer healing pulled her back from the brink more than once since she began to really take responsibility for just herself.

When she was finally down to her underwear and the scraps that were once her clothes lay in a heap in the wastebasket she slowly stood and stretched out her arm into the small shower, turning the hot water spray on. She bent to the first aid kit again and retrieved two pill bottles, two sutures, some thread, the bottle of iodine, cotton balls, gauze, and tape, then laid them out neatly on the narrow sink counter.

Buffy clinically examined herself in a head to toe pattern that was more than a little routine. The mirror showed that she had a few healed scratches on her face, her eyes look a little dilated, but not too bad. She pinched her cheeks, but they didn't pink up right away. Her neck and arms were in relatively good shape, a few bruises and scrapes here and there. Her back felt bruised in several places from being thrown around a bit. The three holes below her collar bone were closed up and she wished she had stayed conscious long enough to clean them out before they hand healed. She rotated the shoulder and felt only a slight pull from the new scars.

Buffy ran her fingers underneath the shallow slice that curved from beneath her right ribs and ended at her belly button. She could see a bit of rib bone, but a butterfly bandage would probably do the trick for that part. Luckily, the Wolverine wannabe vamp had only sliced through some skin and muscle with his then-broken claw. It looked like it would only need three or four stitches for the deepest point of the cut on her stomach. Buffy turned cautiously, trying to avoid pulling her stomach wound, to look down at the deep laceration on her thigh. Any deeper and Buffy knew that she would have bled out. She'd probably need twenty or so stitches on that one. Her skin was covered in dried blood. She had bled plenty, all over really, but hadn't noticed until she passed out from the loss of it.

The shower was finally steaming, so she turned the cold tap on a bit and tested the temperature before slipping out of the rest of her clothes and stepping under the water. Later, when she was dried off, her long hair wrapped in a towel, she cleansed and sewed up her wounds with steady hands, dressing them expertly with gauze. She palmed the two aspirin and one of her mom's old prescription sleeping pills then padded toward the little fridge in her kitchenette. The small bottle of orange juice was thankfully not expired so she downed the whole thing with the three pills, thinking that she'd just have to skip patrol tonight. Buffy managed to just pull on her panties and a white tank top before she collapsed in bed and fell into a deep sleep haunted by dreams of things she could never have and people she would never see again.

* * *

><p>There was a pounding in her head that was determinedly pulling Buffy out of her drug induced sleep. She pulled the pillow over her head to muffle it, but it kept on. Sluggishly realizing that the pounding wasn't in her head but at her her door, she groggily slipped from the bed, tugging her top back down over her stomach and shuffled to the peep hole, tip toeing to peer into it through a heavily lidded eye. "Who is it?" she groaned when all she saw was a head of dark hair. The head looked up toward the door, a very serious look on his face, and she gasped. Suddenly awake, she unlatched the three locks and threw the door open.<p>

Giles stood frozen in the hall, one hand still in the act of knocking and the other hand pulling from his pocket as if to embrace her. "Buffy," he rasped, his expression altered between nervousness, excitement, fear, concern, and suddenly embarrassment as his gaze took her in from head to toe. Buffy herself paralyzed in her doorway, her wide eyes fixed on the face of the man before her, unbelieving, confused, and in shock.

Without a word, she extended a shaking hand toward his chest. Giles watched her face crumble as her hand touched the lapel of his jacket, her eyes wide and watery, bottom lip trembling. Feeling that he was solid she gripped the fabric desperately, her knees suddenly shaky. Her other hand flew to her cover her mouth as a sob escaped her and tears poured unchecked down her pale cheeks. "Are you real?" she whispered, unable to work her voice.

And suddenly she was enfolded in his arms, his cheek pressed to the top of her head. "Oh, Buffy," he breathed. There was so much he wanted to say.

God, he felt so real and he even smelled like Giles. "Are you really here?" she cried into his chest, clutching the front of his jacket with both hands.

"Shush, darling, I'm here. I'm here," his voice was thick with emotion. If she had been a normal girl, he would have been gripping her too tightly against him. She basked in his warmth. She had been cold for so long. Even if he wasn't real. He actually sounded like her Giles, smelled like him, felt like him. But Giles never called her darling.

"No," she wept softly. "Go away. You're not real. You're not real." Buffy took a shuddering breath, but made no move to push him away only gripped his shirt front tighter, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. "Giles! Where's _my_ Giles?" she keened, her whole body trembling.

"Buffy, I'm here. It's me. Please," his begged painfully. "Please, don't cry." He stepped even closer to her as his hands moved in small soothing circles on her back. He could feel her tears hot on the skin of his neck. And quite suddenly, she fell limp in the circle of his arms. Giles, supporting her and in a bit of a panic, quickly lifted her onto the rumpled bed. He frantically checked her temperature and pulse.

As soon as he confirmed that she was merely asleep, Giles tore away his glasses, his hands pressed into his hair in anguish, unsure of what to do. He looked around the room for the first time, shocked at the squalor she lived in, and in such a bad part of town! Honestly what was she thinking - a flat along the docks? He turned to see the door was still open to the grimy, dimly lit hallway and shut it, halting when his hands ran over the dried blood. "Good lord." He rushed over to Buffy, replacing his glasses, taking in her paleness, the dark bags under her eyes, the dullness of her hair, the thinness of her body, the neat stitches on her thigh, and the pink scars on her arm and face. The scars were probably new and would likely fade to invisibility in a few hours, but through the thin white tank top he could observe the black threads of cured stitches in her stomach, the bandages on her ribs, and, just below her collar bone, three puckered stab wounds that he knew would all probably remain as mars upon her skin for a relatively long while due to their severity.

"My god, Buffy. What's happened to you?" Giles murmured, sinking to the floor at her bedside, eyes never leaving her still so familiar face.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry. The angst was a bit much, wasn't it? What can I say - the show inspires angstiness (is that a word? spell check says no.)<p>

What do you think? Honestly? Tell me. I listen. ^_^

And now for the song du jour:

Don't You Remember by Adele

When will I see you again  
>You left with no goodbye<br>Not a single a word was said  
>No final kiss to seal anything<br>I had no idea in the state we were in

I know I have a fickle heart  
>And a bitterness and a wandering eye and a heaviness in my head<p>

[chorus]  
>But don't you remember<br>Don't you remember  
>The reason you loved me before<br>Baby, please remember me once more

When was the last time  
>You thought of me<br>Or have you completely erased me from your memory  
>I often think about where I went wrong<br>The more I do the less I know  
><strong><br>**I know I have a fickle heart  
>And a bitterness and a wandering eye and a heaviness in my head<p>

[chorus]  
>But don't you remember<br>Don't you remember  
>The reason you loved me before<br>Baby, please remember me once more

Gave you the space so you could breathe,  
>I kept my distance so you would be free,<br>In hopes that you'd find the missing piece,  
>To bring you back to me<p>

[chorus]  
>Why don't you remember<br>Don't your remember  
>The reason you loved me before<br>Baby, please remember me once more

When will I see you again

* * *

><p>AN: No really. Please, please review<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

AN: A kinda short one for anyone still reading. Enjoy! And please review - criticisms and grammar police are welcome! Song at the end: Gravity - Sara Bareilles

* * *

><p>Giles sat for half an hour on the cold floor oblivious to all but the deeply breathing woman lying on the bed beside him. He pulled the blue coverlet over her body when she shivered, careful not to catch the row of stitches on her thigh and careful not to let his eyes wander where they shouldn't. His eyes wandered over her beautiful face and the ache in his chest doubled up at not knowing what she'd been through since he'd gone. She was sleeping the deep slumber of the exhausted.<p>

When he finally became aware of the time, Giles' legs had also fallen asleep and his stomach protested mightily at its lack of food. He'd been on a plane for more than eleven hours and then in a taxi for an additional hour. He only stopped at his hotel long enough to check in and drop his bags on the bed before he was in another taxi heading toward the address written in loopy, feminine handwriting at the top right corner of a well worn envelope.

Giles stood slowly, stifling a groan of pain when that pins and needles sensation filled his legs. He began to walk around the room, glasses in one hand and the other in his hair again. This- _this_ is where she lives? In this obscenely tiny flat? He couldn't reconcile his Buffy, bright and always larger than life, reduced to such living conditions.

To the right of the front door was a small kitchen; a two burner range, tiny fridge topped with an even tinier microwave, a minuscule countertop housing a small sink, and some shelves and cupboards. Directly beside the stove lay the door to the bathroom. He peeked his head inside. The shower was hardly large enough for a child, let alone an adult - at most three feet wide and long. An ancient looking sink and mirror sat next to the toilet and above, a little rectangular window was set into the wall. Below the sink lay an open tackle box full of medical supplies and a wastebasket filled with wrappers of used supplies and shredded, blood caked clothing.

The rest of the apartment was perhaps fifteen feet by fifteen feet. Giles stood again in the kitchen/entryway and he looked about, taking in the entire apartment in a few glances. Right next to the front door, Buffy's weapons chest. On the left wall- the little kitchen, the door to the bathroom, and beyond that, squeezed into the corner, a dresser and a short clothing rack stuffed with hanging shirts and other garments. Along the right hand wall- a desk and chair and a very large window covered in closed, but broken blinds, the midday sun fighting to wake the sleeping woman on the bed extending out from the curling iron headboard against the far wall. And that was all.

White painted brick walls, probably not up to code, a bare bulb on the ceiling, and a cold, concrete floor. No striped wallpaper or fluffy carpet. No girlish flowery bed spread or purple scarf covered lamp. The only two pictures on display stood in plain wooden frame on the desk. Joyce and Dawn in the house on Revello Drive. Willow, Xander, and Buffy joking around in the old library. There was no television, no computer. Only a small electric radio clock beside the picture frames.

Giles took a shuddering breath and leaned heavily against the front door in a state of shock. At least before he'd left the States, Buffy had been taking some steps at normalcy, at becoming her old self, despite the trauma of her resurrection. This place hardly held anything that resembled the vibrant, incredible, strong girl he had known once upon a time. Instead, Buffy's new home reflected a hard life, a hard woman, a person who had no time or energy for any frivolous pleasures. God, had he done this to her? And what the hell had been happening while he was gone? Why had no one told him? He removed his glasses again as his eyes filled with tears of frustration.

Slowly, Giles walked toward the bed again. He pulled up the desk chair and sat quietly upon it, studying Buffy's profile again. He'd wait, he decided. He'd wait here until she woke and then they'd talk. He'd find a way to help her, anything that was in his power to make happen, he would. Because whatever he had imagined he might find when packing his bags in front of a gaping Olivia, this was not it.

Buffy woke for the second time with a clear head. She'd had strange dreams where Giles had shown up at her door and held her closely, calling her darling. Buffy sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and stretched tentatively, stopping whens she felt the stitches pulling. Damn. She'd slept too long because of the sleeping pill and the stitches were probably partially healed over again. Sometimes Slayer healing wasn't all that great. She rolled over and froze.

Giles. On her chair. Sleeping.

Buffy rubbed her eyes again. He was still slouching there on the desk chair, glasses dangling from slack fingers under crossed arms, chin tilted forward onto his chest.

She stared. And then rubbed her eyes for a third time. Nope. Still there. Buffy's eyes tracked the scar on his forehead, the smidge of grey at his temples, the laugh lines on his face, the small earring on his ear, and the black stone on his pinky.

"Huh," she muttered, completely bemused. Buffy silently scooted closer to the edge of the bed and toward Giles. His neck would be sore whenever he woke up, but he was sleeping deeply. He was wearing a fitted blue sweater, belted jeans, and black shoes, his brown leather jacket rolled behind his back like a very ineffective pillow. He looked the same, but different in the way that people change subtly over time, so Buffy finally deduced that this Giles was probably not a hallucination. His hair was slightly longer, his skin a shade paler. He seemed thinner, possibly the same weight he had been the first time they'd met in the library. Though it was hard to tell since he used to wear so may layers back then.

Buffy blinked and looked down at herself. "Oh, great." Rolling out of bed she reached for a pair of yoga pants folded on the dresser and tiptoed into the bathroom, very carefully closing the door behind her.

Despite Buffy's attempt to shut it quietly, the squeak of the hinges startled him into dropping his glasses and waking him up. Immediately, he bent to retrieve them, groaning as his back protested. "Buffy?" He stood quickly, studying the room for a sign of her when he notice the bed was empty. "Buffy?" he asked louder.

After a moment, a muffled, "In here, Giles," sounded from the closed bathroom door. Then, he heard her hiss and curse and something metallic drop to the tile.

He was at the door in an instant. "Are you alright in there?" When she didn't answer and he couldn't hear anything he called again, "Buffy?" When there was still no answer, he tried the doorknob and the door swung open with a loud creak. Buffy sat on the closed toilet still clad only in her underwear and tanktop, wide eyes staring up at him in surprise, then with unnerving calm, a white towel wrapped around a hand. There on the floor lay a small knife and pair of dropped tweezers.

Wordlessly he knelt before her, picking up the dropped tools. He reached into the first aid box for an antibacterial wipe and cleaned them, her eyes on him all the while. Giles debated for a moment, but after making eye contact with Buffy and getting her unspoken permission, his fingers tentatively touched her thigh and began to gently remove the remaining stitches there as she cradled her sliced hand in its towel. He worked in silence on his knees in front of him as she watched him closely. After a time he leaned back on his heels, examining the already fading, pink scar on her leg. "Done," he announced briskly.

"There's a few more," she murmured.

Giles looked puzzled and searched the leg again. Until she lifted the hem of her white shirt. It was his turn for his eyes to widen in surprise. "Buffy - I-I don't thi-" but before he could stutter the end of his sentence, he saw them. There, on her pale, flat stomach, lay five black stitches that he'd observed earlier. Sighing and standing, he held out a free hand and she looked at him questioningly. "I can't remove those while you're sitting. You'll need to lie down."

She nodded and stood without his help. "I'll be out in a minute," she mumbled.

When she emerged from the bathroom, her palm sported a large bandage and she wore a pair of calf length, blue cotton pants. The room was steeped in heavy silence as she lay down on the bed beside Giles sitting in he desk chair.

He removed the rest of the stitches and put away the trash and the tools as she sat up. Giles perched on the edge of the chair again.

Their knees touched and they were facing each other, eyes locked on the other's eyes, searching, questioning. Their hands and fingers were suddenly entwined, neither knowing who reached for who and they were both smiling broadly in relief. After everything - despite everything, there was still this. Trust and affection, always there.

"When did you get in?" she asked.

"Oh, um." He checked his watch. "About 3 hours ago, I suppose."

"I'd offer you a place to stay, but," she shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head round the tiny space.

"Yes. It's very…"

"Postage stamp sized?" she tried to inject a bit of perkiness into her voice and was rewarded with a quirk of a smile from Giles.

"I was going to say cozy."

"So, where are you staying then?"

"The Holiday Inn off Main Street."

"Hm. Do they still have free waffles?"

Giles smiled again. "I didn't check, but I'll let you know."

Buffy hesitated, then asked cheerily, "And what brings you back to lovely Sunnydale, Mr. Giles?"

At this, he looked surprised and searched her face to see if she really didn't know. He held her hand a little tighter. "You, of course, Buffy."

"Me? What for?" She looked baffled. "Did Willow or Xander-" Her heart skipped a beat - did they tell him what happened with Warren?

"No, no!" he denied, thinking that she meant to ask if Willow or Xander had asked him to come back for her. "Actually, I haven't talked to them in months. I don't know how it got to be this way. No, I got your… your letter."

"My letter? You mean the tape? But I sent that forever ago."

Giles grimaced embarrassedly. "Olivia pointed out the date, otherwise I might not have known. I think your envelope must have fallen behind my desk and gotten lodged against the wall. I didn't find it until-" He checked his watch, still on GMT. "Approximately two days ago."

"And so you just, what? Hopped on the first flight you could get back to California?"

"I suppose that I did, yes." Buffy looked slightly taken aback.

"It wasn't anything I said on the tape, was it? Because, I thought I made it clear that I would take care of myself and-"

"No, Buffy. Well, in part, I guess that some of the things you had said worried me, but hearing your voice after so long… I- I needed to be on the next plane. To see you in person."

Buffy's emotions spun dizzyingly and it showed on her expressive face. "Wow," she murmured and Giles wondered if he should have prevaricated a bit. They sat, lost in their own thoughts for a short while, still hand in hand.

"And you, Buffy?" he asked tentatively. "I understand needing to sell your house, but what brings you to… to this place?"

The way he paused got her hackles up, hearing only criticism and not the concern he'd intended. "Well, it's like I explained in the tape." She shrugged, pulling her hands away and crossing her arms. "I needed money for bills and Dad wouldn't help, not really, so I took the neatest option. Sent Dawn to Dad, sold the house, used the money to pay bills and put a deposit down here. I don't need much space. It's just me, usually." Buffy could hear the defensiveness in her own voice, but she couldn't help it.

Giles heard it as well and said drily, "But surely, this flat can't be the most comfortable for you, let alone safety or cleanliness. This entire building is in disrepair. Couldn't you have stayed with Xander or Willow, or even Anya? At least until you were able to save enough to afford a better apartment."

Buffy laughed and the bitterness of it rattled him. "Are you kidding? You leave because you say you want me to stand on my own and now you're saying I should have leaned on my friends? The one's who have barely managed to hold their own lives together, might I add? Make up your mind," she spat.

"But surely could do better than this?" he argued, wanting to hear her reasons, not believing that she'd willingly choose to live here. "If you were looking for the worst part of town to live in, you've succeeded. The docks, honestly! No one respectable lives here. The building doesn't meet code. It's unsafe for you." She stared at him sardonically. "A-and there's mold. I-in the hallways."

"Unsafe? Really?" She shook her head angrily and stood up, striding across the room to stand near the front door. "You want me to find a 'safe,' in other words, unaffordable, tidy, little apartment while I throw myself at evil every night? What's the point? Whether from mold, demons, or asbestos-"

"Asbestos?" She glared him silent.

"I'm going to die soon, if not during some apocalypse, then probably on patrol when a random vamp gets lucky. Why waste my energy on pretending it's not gonna happen? And I'll have you know that there are plenty of perfectly nice, normal people living here! I may not be one of the nice, normal people, but I'm at least one of the good guys! How dare you come back after all this time and judge me? You have no right! _You _left _me, _remember?" Frustrated tears stung her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "I would've asked y-" Buffy, catching herself, snapped her mouth shut.

He gazed up at her from his perch on the chair, mouth gaping, contrite and speechless at her tirade.

"You know what?" She laughed humorlessly. "It doesn't matter, because you're leaving now."

"Buffy, I-"

She attacked the locks and swung the door open violently. "Goodbye, Giles," she said pointedly, staring at him with hard eyes.

Lord, how had this gotten so out of hand? Giles made to move across the room to lay a comforting hand upon her, desperate to get back the fleeting moment of trust and tenderness that had evaporated all to quickly. "I'm sorr-

"Don't," she bit out harshly, averting her gaze from the door and from him.

So he stopped, hand in midair falling awkwardly to his side. "Alright." His voice was choked and he walked, head hung, past Buffy and into the hall. "But I'll be back later," he promised softly as the door clicked behind him and the locks slid into place.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>AN: Hope you've enjoyed it so far - let me know what you think! REVIEW! ... Pretty please? ^_^

Gravity by Sara Bareilles

Something always brings me back to you.  
>It never takes too long.<br>No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.

You hold me without touch.  
>You keep me without chains.<br>I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.  
><em><br>_Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.  
>Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.<br>But you're on to me and all over me.

You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.  
>When I thought that I was strong.<br>But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone.

Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.  
>Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.<br>But you're on to me and all over me._  
><em>  
>I live here on my knees as I try to make you see<p>

That you're everything I think I need here on the ground.  
>But you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go.<br>The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down.

You're on to me, on to me, and all over...  
>Something always brings me back to you.<br>It never takes too long.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Song of the story: Once - Glen Hansard.

Standard disclaimers - love em, but don't own em. Story's mine though.

Strength and Frailty - Ch. 4

* * *

><p>Late Fall 2002 - Sunnydale, CA<p>

Hardly knowing how he got there, Giles found himself back in his hotel room, heartsick and emotionally drained. He threw his key on the nearest surface and dragged himself to the bed where he unceremoniously shoved his suitcase to the floor and collapsed tiredly, fully clothed, only pausing to toe off his shoes and place his glasses upon the nightstand. Between the jet lag and the alternately glorious and wretched reunion with Buffy, he fell deeply asleep in less than a minute.

When Giles woke, the sun was setting against the curtains and rolled, rumpled, sore, and groggy, out of bed. Now that he was back in Sunnydale and had at last spoken with Buffy, unsatisfactory as it was, the sense of urgency that had pulled him eased. He surprisingly found himself at loose ends. He hadn't really thought past seeing his Slayer with his own eyes. He'd had some sort of vague plan to offer assistance in whatever she needed, even if it made a hypocrite out of him. The critical words he had spoken in haste to Buffy echoed bitterly in his head. It seemed that he would have to rethink his approach - or, rather preferably, _have_ an approach with any sort of forethought.

Giles rummaged through his suitcase for his toiletries and headed for a scalding hot shower to loosen the knots in his shoulders and back. Emerging from the steamy bathroom freshly shaven and refreshed with a clear, simple stratagem to reach out to Buffy and a checklist of things to do in order to get settled, he began to feel a little less dejected and more determined. Giles unpacked some of his clothes and chose the least creased of the bunch, a pair of grey slacks and a black long sleeved pullover. He ran a hand through his hair, replaced his glasses, filled his pockets with his keys and wallet, and grabbed his- damn. He'd left his jacket at Buffy's apartment.

After arranging for a rental car at the desk in the lobby he drove into town. The ride down Main was uneventful and the tinkle of the Magic Box's bell as he opened the door provoked a bittersweet stab of nostalgia.

"Welcome!" called a cheery voice. "How can I- Giles!" Multi colored candles tumbled to the floor when Anya, smiling broadly, rushed across the shop, nearly tackling him to the ground with her enthusiastic hug. "Giles! It's so good to see you! Why are you-" Her smile abruptly changed to suspicion as she held Giles' shoulders at arm's length. "You can't have the store back."

Giles chuckled. "Hello, Anya. It's good to see you, too. And the store is still yours, of course. I- uh- I'm actually here a-as a customer."

"Oh, good!" sighed Anya, immensely relieved that her source of income still remained safely under her control. Relatively un-phased by the sudden appearance of her old employer, she turned to pick up the spilled merchandise. "So, you came all the way from the U.K. to buy something?" She looked at him curiously, "You could have just called, Giles. I would have shipped you whatever you wanted-"

"That's very kind-"

"I wouldn't even charge for delivery!"

"Uh- Thank you? I- um, have other business in town, it so happens…"

"Business? Really? Not Magic Box, business I assume. I didn't think I'd ever see you again on American soil." Her eyes narrowed as she restocked the candles. "It's not the end of the world _again, _is it?"

"No, no! Nothing like that. I just-"

"That's good. Hey, when can I meet the new Mrs. Giles?"

"The new WHAT? Did-" He was interrupted by the chiming of the bell and a high squeal.

"Oh my god! Is that- It's Giles! GILES! IT'S GILES!"

"Giles!" He spun around at the familiar voices and was abruptly engulfed in four arms. Blinking, he saw Willow's bouncing red hair and Xander's giant grin. Giles' did his best to wrap his own arms around the both of them, his grin just as large as Xander's and a sudden stinging sensation behind his eyes. Good lord, he hadn't realized just how much he'd missed these two.

"I can't believe it! I can't believe it!" Willow stepped back in the circle of their arms, smiling widely. "What on Gaia's green earth are you doing here? I mean, I'm totally happy that you are, but- what the heck are you doing here?"

"I think what Will's trying to say is, 'We missed you very, very much,'" Xander said happily, still clasping Giles' shoulder tightly.

"I missed you, too. All of you," he said, still smiling.

"Really though, G-man, whatcha doing back on this side of the pond?"

"I thought a visit might be overdue and don't call me that again."

"Gosh, Buffy's gonna be so glad to see you!" Willow exclaimed.

"Actually, I went by her apartment to see her earlier today."

"That's good. If you went to her place now, you probably would've missed her. She patrols earlier nowadays," Xander explained. Giles wondered that they didn't seem concerned about Buffy's injuries and then realized at the same moment, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that they knew nothing about it.

"Well, come on!" Willow tugged on his sleeve. "Sit down and tell us what you've been up to!" She pulled him into a chair at the Magic Box's round table and scooted another chair for herself close to his.

Xander sprawled himself in his own chair across from them. "Yah, how many scones didja eat while you were in England?"

"Please, Xander," replied Anya matter of factly, sitting on the other side of Giles. "That's like asking a whale how much plankton it ate." Xander stuck his tongue out at her.

Giles glared, but there was no heat behind it. "A fair few scones, Xander. Although, I do believe I ate more curry than might be considered healthy in the first while back. And as for your question, Willow, I've been keeping busy. Reunited with a few old friends and the like. I even took on an odd research job at my old museum here and there."

"That sounds great, Giles!" Willow enthused. "Musta been nice to be home."

"You forgot your wedding," Anya pointed out.

"I'm sorry - my _what?!_" Giles sputtered.

"Wedding. Man and wife? As in, 'I now pronounce you…?' I'm pretty offended that I wasn't invited. I mean, you _were_ invited to my wedding," she glanced pointedly at Xander. "Even though it was a disaster."

Giles' brow furrowed, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly, trying to make sense of the turn in conversation.

"I gotta say," Willow added. "I'm more than a little miffed, too. Did you at least bring pictures?

"I… I… What?"

"C'mon, guys, give Giles a break." Xander said. "It's not like we could have made it up there anyway."

Willow sighed. "I know, I know. Between the air fare and taking shifts at the hospital after the shooting, we-"

"Shooting?" Willow broke off mid-sentence, catching her mistake a few words too late, while everyone else guiltily avoided eye contact with him, saying nothing. "Shooting?!" Giles exclaimed, thoroughly alarmed when no one elaborated. "SHOOTING? With guns and bullets? Someone was shot?"

"Well, I thought- I mean- if you're here, a-and you already saw Buffy I thought that you must know… I mean- that she would have said…" Willow trailed off uncertainly.

"Buffy was SHOT?!" The three's silence was telling and the sinking feeling in his stomach turned into a lead ball. "B-but I just saw her - she's fine."

"She is… well, mostly," Xander spoke quietly. "But she wasn't for a while and there was few days when we weren't sure…" his voice roughened and he had to clear his throat.

Anya stared hard at a speck of dust on the ground, worrying her bottom lip. She'd visited the hospital many times while Buffy was unconscious and the memory of seeing the seemingly indestructible Slayer laid so low still unsettled her. "She would've been fine if she'd've just saved herself," she mumbled. Xander heard her confusion and caught her eye for a moment - he understood what she meant.

Willow wrung her hands and seemed to debate with herself before she said, "Buffy was shot, um, in the head last summer." She tried to mutter the last bit, but Giles heard quite clearly.

He paled. "In the head?!"

Willow soldiered on with her explanation. "She spent more than a month in the hospital, mostly unconscious. It was touch and go for the first week before she stabilized. She developed a pretty nasty infection and all of her pain medications made her really out of it when she woke up now and then. Buffy, uh, kinda knocked out one of the nurses just after waking up from her surgery. It took a few male nurses and doctors to hold her down until she just went to sleep.

"The doctor said it had something to do with the anesthesia making her act strangely and aggressively," Xander added. "But Wesley said it was probably her Slayer instincts lashing out and trying to protect herself when she was vulnerable."

"Oh! And Wesley brought Dawn down from L.A. to visit Buffy, but we sent her back to school when Buffy stabilized and then we called her back here when the doctors were ready to take her off of the stronger pain meds. Wesley helped with patrols and warding Buffy's hospital room while he was here. Boy," Willow laughed nervously, "we had a hard time explaining the latin and garlic and crucifixes when her nurse walked in on us." Willow's tentative smile faded when saw that Giles was staring at her in disbelief, white as a ghost. She cleared her throat and hurried on with the rest of the story. "Dawn and Wes only stayed about a week after Buffy was discharged. Buffy healed, but she never went to her follow ups and didn't fill out any of her prescriptions. She should be in physical therapy now, but she refused."

"We've been taking turns trying to check on her and spend time with her and to make sure she's ok, but-" Xander shrugged. "It's like she doesn't want help."

Giles was shaking his head, "I- I don't understand. If Buffy was so badly wounded, why did no one call me? At least let me know what was happening?"

"Well, your wedding was the same weekend that Buffy got hurt," Anya answered as if it were obvious.

"Why the bloody hell do you all keep talking about _my_ wedding?" He slammed his hand onto the table, causing the trio to flinch. "I was a _groomsman_ at Olivia's wedding. I was never married! Why did no one call me?"

Xander and Willow traded confused glances. "We did call," said Xander.

"Your father answered and told us about your wedding," continued Willow. "We tried to explain that it was about the Slayer, but-"

"My _father?! _Good lord. And you liste- No, you wouldn't have known." All eyes were on Giles as comprehension dawned on his face. "My father and his companion were visiting for a week. He has Alzheimers. He- well, he must have remembered part of the conversation we had about my being in a wedding, but obviously not clearly enough to relate to you the actual facts."

Xander, Willow, and Anya gaped at him. "So…"

"Then you're not…?"

"There's no Mrs. Giles?"

"Not unless you are referring to my mother or grandmother."

A heavy silence settled over the store as each person considered the ramifications of the miscommunication. "But Roger and Olivia's wedding was ages ago," Giles spoke in confusion, "even if I had gotten married the same week Buffy was-" he cleared his throat, "was shot… Why am I still only hearing of this now?"

At this, Xander and Willow shared a look that made that horrible lead feeling in his stomach do an uncomfortable flop. "Buffy asked us not to tell you," Xander finally answered. "It was the first thing she said when she woke up. I'm sorry, Giles. She was still so weak - we just didn't want her getting worked up over it… and then when she was released from the hospital we asked her again if she wanted us to contact you, but…" Xander shrugged sadly.

"Ok, wait," Anya held up a hand. "Let me just get this straight so there's no more confusion. Buffy died, Giles left, we resurrected her. Giles came back, Buffy was getting better, Giles left. Buffy moved out and Dawn went to LA. Buffy got shot. We thought Giles was getting married, so we didn't call again. Then, Buffy woke up and asked us all not to tell Giles. Buffy is sort of better. Giles is back- again- and he only now found out about the shooting?" She looked around the table for confirmation.

Willow nodded, lips pursed thoughtfully. Xander shook his head in disbelief.

Giles cursed and stood abruptly from the table dragging his hands through his hair. "Buffy thinks that I- Christ! This is all some unbelievable misunderstanding. I need to go." He strode purposefully toward the exit.

"Giles, wait!" Willow called out. "Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, all of you. I need to find Buffy," he announced impatiently as he reached for the door handle. "I'll come back tomorrow sometime."

"But, Giles, what about your purchases-" Anya called out. But he was gone. And in a few moments they heard the sound of his rental car speeding away and down the street.

That urgency to see Buffy, to shake some sense into her, that Giles had felt after hearing her taped message had returned tenfold and the bloody car couldn't go fast enough. He still didn't know the whole damned story, but he certainly wouldn't bloody well sit the Magic Box and listen to it second hand when he could just as well hear it from Buffy herself and just be near her.

A storm of emotions rolled over him- hot anger, inexplicable guilt, pain, and love, and loss- and the breath was knocked from his lungs as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. He'd nearly lost her and he hadn't even known. Would he have ever known if he hadn't hopped on that plane? If she had died - would he have heard? He sped toward Buffy's apartment building all plans and carefully thought out speeches flying out the window.

* * *

><p>AN: SOooo… Regular updates are just not gonna happen. Apologies. This quick chapter took months of typing for 30 minutes every few weeks. I know where the story is headed and it should be done in 2-3 more shortish chapters. Forgive me and review? Thank you for reading! ~lovelielove<p>

* * *

><p>Once by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova (Once OST)<p>

Part of me  
>Has died<br>And won't return  
>And part of me<br>Wants to hide  
>The part that's burned<p>

Once, once  
>Knew how to talk to you<br>Once, once  
>But not anymore<p>

Hear the sirens call me home  
>Hear the sirens call me home<br>Hear the sirens call me home  
>Hear the sirens call me home<p>

Part of me  
>Has vied<br>To watch it burn  
>And the heart of me<br>Has tried  
>But look what it's become<p>

Once, once  
>I knew how to look for you<br>Once, once  
>But that was before<br>Once, once  
>I would have laid down and died for you<br>Once, once  
>But not anymore.<p>

Hear the sirens call me home  
>Hear the sirens call me home<br>Hear the sirens call me home  
>Hear the sirens call me home<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Please enjoy and review!

Strength and Frailty - Ch. 5

Late Fall 2002 - Sunnydale, CA

Giles knocked on Buffy's apartment door for the seventh time, this time louder and longer, hoping that if he just kept pounding his fists against the wood she would at least get fed up enough to tell him to stop.

After driving from the Magic Box to Buffy's, he had already tried knocking earlier with no success. So Giles had spent two hours driving around the cemeteries hoping for a glimpse of her before he calmed down enough to realize that Buffy wouldn't go on a routine patrol if she was as weak as she had been. Now, Giles had already been back in front of her flat for ten minutes with a suspicion that she was hiding from him.

The sound of a door unlocking and hinges squeaking open had him looking up, confused, at the still closed door before him. "Come on, man! It's nine o'clock and I work an early shift tomorrow," a gruff, exasperated voice startled him. Giles spun around to see the opposite apartment door swung wide and a burly looking, fifty something, thickly mustached man in rumpled sleep clothes glaring back at him. "She's obviously not home."

Giles sputtered, embarrassed at his own thoughtlessness. "Oh. I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I-I suppose you're right. I'll, um, try again another time perhaps… uh… yes…"

Something of Giles' deep disappointment must have shown on his face as he turned to leave because the burly neighbor heaved a great sigh and grumbled under his breath and, more loudly, said, "Hold on now. Are you a friend of Buffy's?"

"Y-yes! I am." Giles about faced as he said this.

The man twitched his salt and pepper walrus mustache as he eyed Giles from head to toe, sizing him up. "Hm. You sure about that? I haven't seen you around here before." He crossed his arms.

"Well, I just returned to the states this morning and I don't see how it's really any of your business. Again, I apologize for the nois-"

"Relax! If she's not working, you might try third floor apartment 3C."

"Oh! Wh- thank you! Working?"

"Yah, graveyard shift in some dive."

"Uh… Yes. She's always worked the, um, graveyard shift… But I thought that perhaps…" Giles shook his head. No need to mention that she was unlikely to perform her job tonight.

"Right. Well, try 3C, man. Otherwise, come back in the morning or something?"

"I will. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

By the time Giles stood before apartment 3C, he'd convinced himself that Buffy wouldn't be there. He knocked quietly this time.

A flurry of little footsteps and the door swung inside. "Oh. You're a stranger." The little boy who'd opened the door gazed up at Giles with distaste - then promptly slammed the door in his face.

Puzzled, but not particularly surprised, Giles turned to leave when he froze at the second voice behind the door. "Jacob! Your parents and I have told you a hundred times - let a grown up open the door until you're tall enough to check the peep hole yourself- got that?"

"Ookaaaay."

"Who was it?"

"I dunno. A tall man with glasses?"

Still frozen in place, he watched as the door swung in again and Buffy stuck her head into the hallway, eyes catching on him.

"Oh." She echoed the boy's tone exactly and Giles imagined that she would slam the door in his face as well.

"Buffy, please-" every emotion that had been raging within him since leaving the Magic Box filled his chest and throat so that no more sounds would come.

"Oh!" Buffy's eyes widened, understanding without words that her secret had been uncovered. "Who told-" but she was suddenly enfolded in Giles' arms, pressed tightly against him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He pressed his lips against her head mumbling fervent apologies and other incomprehensible words into her hair. She hesitated a moment before wrapping her own arms around his waist, letting out a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he murmured.

"Me, too," she whispered, savoring his nearness for just a moment before-

_Fwap! _

"Hey!" _Fwap, flap! _ "Get offa her you-" _Fwap! _"You, stranger!" _Fwap!_

Giles looked down to see the same little boy ineffectually swinging a jacket repeatedly at his legs. "Um…"

Buffy stepped back. "Jacob, wait-"

The boy whipped the jacket into Giles' face, zipper and fabric stinging him and blinding him temporarily. "HiiiiiiYAH!" Jacob sent a vicious kick to the side of his knee cap and Giles' legs buckled painfully.

"Arrgh!" Giles hit the hallway floor back first, his head quickly following to smack smartly against the wall.

"Jacob, no!" Buffy chided, scrambling to Giles' side.

"_What _is going on here?!" another woman's voice entered the fray.

"Mommy, it's a stranger!"

"Ung…" Giles groaned.

Buffy sighed, bringing a hand to her forehead. "Sorry," she said calmly, addressing the woman that just stepped off the elevator, rushing toward them down the hallway. "This is Giles. He's an old friend of mine and uh, Jacob… well… he-"

"I did what you taught me, Buffy!"

"He, uh, takes stranger danger very seriously?" Buffy sent her a sheepish grin.

The woman, dressed in her blue waitress uniform slowed down as she reached apartment 3C, taking in the scene before her. "Okay…" Jacob stood, or rather bounced, in the open door, fists up, while Buffy helped the handsome older man to his feet. "Is he alright?"

"I'm fine," Giles grumbled, letting Buffy run her fingers through his hair trying to find a lump. He hissed when she found a small gash with her fingertips.

"Oh, Jacob," the boy's mother sighed. "You need to apologize. Buffy is obviously friends with this man."

Before the little boy could protest, Giles spoke up, "No need. I wouldn't be in Sunnydale if I didn't have a head wound. You, young man, are a force to be reckoned with," he said dryly. Buffy was tugging his head down so she could see the cut better.

Jacob beamed. "Buffy trained me!"

"Oh, she did, did she?" Giles smiled as he caught her eye, causing her to blush without knowing why.

"I'd better get Giles something for his head at my place, Heather," she said quickly to Jacob's mother. "Jacob's already had his dinner, his bath, and his bedtime story, but he'll probably need another one after all the hubbub." She looked at Jacob who was just about bouncing off the wall. "Uh, better make it two more bed time stories."

Heather watched her son practically vibrating with excitement and nodded in agreement. "Thanks for watching him again, Buffy. And sorry for all the trouble, Mr. Giles. What do you say, Jacob?"

"Thank you, Buffy," he parroted dutifully.

"Anytime, buddy," she smiled.

"And?" his mother asked.

Jacob looked confused, then looked a the adults for a cue. Getting no hints, he just guessed, "Thank… you, Mr. Giles?" His mom rolled her eyes, but Buffy's friend just laughed.

"It was nice meeting you, Jacob." Giles extended his hand to him.

"Oh! You, too!" and he shook it vigorously, like in the movies. Giles just laughed again.

"Ok, you. First aid kit. Let's go." Buffy waved goodbye to mother and son then bossily ushered Giles toward the stairs.

Giles wordlessly followed Buffy back to her tiny apartment where she unlocked the door and motioned for him to go near the bed. He obeyed while she disappeared into the bathroom to rummage through her large first aid chest. The tension that had temporarily dissipated while speaking to the young boy and his mother had returned twofold. He tossed his glasses onto the desk and rubbed his eyes. His head throbbed dully, but it was bearable. However, all he could think about was how much worse it must have been for her to recover from a bullet wound. How close he had been to never seeing her again and to never making things right between them.

"You'll need to sit. You're too tall for me to see your cut well." Buffy walked out of the bathroom with a few supplies in her arms, not meeting his eyes.

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her as she laid everything out on her desk neatly.

She turned and stepped between his knees, gaze directed above his head. "Tilt your head forward." He complied, but she tutted. "A little more." She took a step closer and stood on her tiptoes, running her fingers through his hair and across his scalp again, searching for the gash. Finding the small scratch near the crown of his head with already dried blood, she cleaned it throughly and sealed it with an over the counter liquid bandaid. She allowed her fingers to trail through his hair once more under the pretense of smoothing it back into place. All the while, Buffy's heart thundered in her chest with awareness.

Had she ever stood this close to her Watcher? Touched him so intimately?

She swallowed thickly and turned to clean up the desk, but was stopped by Giles' hands on her waist. Buffy froze and he tiredly lowered his forehead upon shoulder. "I'm sorry," he repeated brokenly and she was shocked to feel hot tears upon her skin and to see his back shudder with unsteady breaths. "I'm so, so sorry." He gripped her shirt tightly as if afraid to actually hold her.

Buffy, still unsure, but unable to just let Giles cry, placed her hands on his head, stroking his hair gently, carefully avoiding his cut, and murmured, "Please don't cry, Giles," tears filling her own eyes.

Perceiving her attempt to comfort him only caused him to hiccough and finally wrap his arms around her securely, burying his face in that hollow between her shoulder and neck, and bringing her to stand nearly flush against him. Her arms automatically enfolded him, her cheek resting against the top of his head while one hand held tight to his back, the other continued to soothingly comb through his now thoroughly tousled hair. She wept, too, for all the hurt they kept causing one another, for all the longing and regret. Giles held her tightly when he realized she was also crying even as he continued to shed his own bitter tears.

They held fast to each other, giving and taking comfort in turn.

AN: Holy crap. That took forever to write - and didn't go where I expected it to go. Few more chapters to go, I think, and the next in the works. I hope you like it so far! I truly love hearing from you, so please send me a your thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Usual disclaimers. To my lovely readers- I hope you all like this next itty bitty chapter. It took about a year to get finished. (Woops! Sorry!) Please review if you have any thoughts on this fluffy little chapter. Enjoy!

Song for this chapter: Nuvole Bianche - Ludovico Einaudi (no words)

* * *

><p>Strength and Frailty - Ch. 6<p>

…_about an hour later…_

Emotionally exhausted, they lay on top of the faded covers of the bed facing each other. Both their heads shared Buffy's only pillow, their tired eyes trailing across the familiar and beloved features of the other - a freckle here, a wrinkle there, the sweep of a brow, a curve of cheekbone, the point of a chin.

A strange and quiet feeling sat between them - heavy like the weight of anticipation and warm like the first embers of a fire. "Hey, you," Buffy whispered.

His eyes crinkled in a small smile. "Hey."

"Say," she said in a cheerful, matter of fact tone, "did you know that I've been teaching one of my neighbor's kids some of the self defense stuff you taught me?"

Giles barked a startled laugh and replied dryly, "Oh, really?"

"Yup," she smiled.

He grinned back. "I knew there was something familiar about how I got knocked on the head."

"Hey, I don't think _I _ever knocked your head," she pouted.

"Neither did your student. He simply incapacitated me and the architecture did the rest."

Giles smiled, but Buffy fretted. "Does it hurt much? Do you need any painkillers?"

"No, no." Giles grasped her small hands between his. "I'm fine."

Buffy held his hands tightly for a moment, searching his face for any trace that he was lying. "Okay," she breathed when she found none.

"I must say, I admire how Jacob used what was on hand to take me down," he said lightly. "Only a jacket and a well aimed kick."

"Yah, well, you always used to remind me that anything could be a weapon. I just passed on your wisdom."

"Which, of course, came back to bite me in the arse," he grumbled and was rewarded with Buffy's chuckle.

Seeing his answering smile, she sighed, "God, I've missed you."

"And I you." Giles, leaned across the pillow, tilted his chin up and laid a soft kiss on her forehead. When he looked at her face once more, it was to find that he was much closer to those big, stormy eyes than he had been just a moment before and he became caught in their gaze.

Buffy's fingers started playing with the collar of his black shirt. "Giles?" she whispered.

"Yes?" His heart twisted as he watched her face cave into the saddest expression, chin wobbling, brows scrunched up, and eyes shining with tears again.

"Could we maybe not fight anymore?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"… Buffy." His arms wrapped around her as she sniffled and he kissed her forehead again. "Of course, darling." He kissed one of her closed eyes. "We won't fight." he murmured. He kissed her cheek. Or at least he meant to. But she had shifted or he hadn't aimed very well because Buffy felt a shock run down her spine as Giles' mouth landed on the corner of hers. They both gasped and their eyes flew open to meet in surprise, but neither moved away.

After a moment, Buffy took a chance, closed her eyes, slid her hand against Giles' square jaw, and gently brushed her lips against his. His heart stuttered in the best way possible and, after a split second, he reverently kissed her back.

As for Buffy, the joy in her chest built to near bursting proportions and a fog of happiness seemed to swirl in her head. Nothing in her life had ever felt more right than _this. _Was this what kissing Giles was like? She'd wondered about it years back, giggling with Willow in the library. She giggled now, bright and giddy. And Giles joined her. Noses an inch apart, they laughed.

"What-" Buffy gasped, trying to rein in her laughter. "What the hell are we doing?"

"I have no idea!" giggled Giles, eyes smiling. "But I think I like it."

"Me, too."

"Really?"

"Truly."

"Madly, deeply?"

"Ugh. I never should have added the pop alt station to the tramp's radio setting."

"I'm quite serious."

"So am I! That song was waaay over played."

"I think we've lost track of the original subject. Allow me to remind you." He gathered her closer and made to kiss her again when, "Ow! Wha-"

"Hey! You! You're married!" Buffy made to smack him upside the head again.

"Wait! No - I was never married!" he shouted. She paused mid-strike and Giles gingerly touched the cut on his head from earlier. _"Ow." _he said pointedly.

"Oh, god! I'm sorry, Giles. Shit. You're bleeding again. I'll get you a towel, you… you explain." Buffy scrambled up toward the bathroom, muttering, _"Hello, recent head trauma, Buffy! Stupid, stupid, stupid…"_

Giles chuckled to himself. Act first, question second. Some things never change. He pulled himself up to sit up on the edge of her bed again.

She quickly remerged from the bathroom after wetting a small washcloth, flopped huffily onto the bed beside him, and immediately attacked blood that had seeped from Giles' cut. "You were explaining?"

Giles let her fuss over him and wished he had thought to grab his glasses from the desk for a good polishing. "Well, I- I was never married while I was in England. I took part in Olivia's wedding to an old classmate from my Oxford days. I introduced them, you see. I was a groomsman." He hissed as Buffy scrubbed a bit of dried blood away.

"And?"

"… I was never married?"

"No, I mean, how did we all end up thinking that you'd gotten hitched?"

"Ah, yes. My father-" she scrubbed a little harder. "Ouch."

She shushed him. "Your father?"

"My father had been visiting for a few days when you were… were shot. His caretaker was a Council nurse who suggested that he might enjoy more outings with familiar people or places. I'd usually go our old family home or meet them at Council Headquarters. They came rarely came to my flat, actually. However, that day he must have picked up the phone and relayed erroneous information to whomever he spoke to."

"He had a stroke, right? Multi-infact dementia, was it?"

"Multi-_infarct… _Yes," he was surprised she remembered, having only mentioned his father in passing years ago. She always surprised him. He watched her nodding her head in contemplation, fiddling with the dry end of the washcloth and realized anew that she might never have surprised him again. It felt as though a great weight sat upon his chest. He might have never again looked upon her face, might never again have heard her voice or gotten a chance to hold her. There was a roaring in his ears. "I should have been here," he croaked. She blinked at the change of subject. "You were shot, Buffy." His voice sounded very distant to his own ears.

"Yup," she said flippantly.

"By a gun."

"Uh huh."

"In the head!" his voice cracked.

"I know it."

"Buffy," he said chidingly.

"I know, I know. I just - I try not to think about it?" He nodded in understanding. "I was in a very low place anyway when it happened, but waking up in that hospital… I dunno. I kind of collapsed in on myself… Kinda like one of those dying stars that turn into black holes, you know? Only I don't think I've imploded or exploded or whatever, yet."

"Do you believe you're likely to implode?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "Maybe?"

He tugged the damp washcloth out of her hands and tossed it onto the desk, replacing it with his own hands around hers. "Is that why you had everyone keep this a secret from me?"

She shrugged and was silent.

"Is that why Willow and Xander aren't going on patrol with you anymore?"

"It's not safe for them."

He sighed. "Buffy…"

"I'm supposed to be strong, remember? Stand alone?" she sniffled a tiny sniffle. "No giving up, right? Well, I was, and I did, and I didn't."

"Yes, of course, but Buffy, but not this way… Please, don't sacrifice your health and happiness like this. I-I can't bear to lose you again."

"I'm already lost," she whispered.

"No." Giles grabbed her shoulders. "No, Buffy. You're not lost. You- you're right here."

She smiled wanly. "With you?"

"With me. Always," he spoke with fervently. "I promise you."

Buffy studied his face, searching his eyes, while he held her gaze. She seemed to approve of what she saw because Buffy raised her lips to his in a soft kiss. That soft kissed evolved quickly as she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, his hands smoothed down from her shoulders toward the dip of her waist.

"Mmm. This is nice," she smiled against his mouth.

"Agreed," he murmured, stealing another kiss.

"What are we doing here, Giles?"

He looked at her Buffy had always been beautiful to him. Giles admired her grace and strength. He delighted in her clever wit and sharp tongue - even when he was the one being mocked. He took pride in her discipline and dedication. He even had a soft spot for her terrible puns and inability to pronounce demon names correctly. It would be untruthful to say he'd _never_ considered Buffy in a romantic sense, but to say that he'd always loved her would be accurate - in evolving variations...

"I-I'm not- not very sure. This- this is something I've hardly e-ever contemplated. This- us."

He was stuttering again, and she felt a surge of affection toward her Watcher. "Me, too," she kissed his nose. "This is… Well, it's kind of strange, isn't it? But I like it. And at the moment, I gotta say, I feel much less implode-y."

At this declaration, Giles smiled and said, "I'm glad."

"You're here _and _you're not married - and I'm all healed, bullet wounds and scratches. And we'll get used to the strangeness." She hesitated. "You're here to stay, right?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "I'm not going anywhere anymore. Er- except to pack my things in England." Buffy's smile lit up the room.

"I'm glad, too."

* * *

><p>AN: Please review! Thanks for reading.<p>

to be continued...


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